Stealing the Moon & Stars

by Sally J. Smith

  Jordan eased up. “Listen to me. I know you’re angry. I know your first instinct is to face him down, but you said yourself this problem should be contained to protect the foundation. When word gets out—and with this many employees I can guarantee you it will—if we can’t produce strong evidence to support our case, it could be very bad. You could be brought up on charges of collusion for not reporting it, or worse, embezzlement.”

  “Me?”

  “It could happen. Sure, you’d probably beat it, but what would it do to the foundation’s donations? Would you give money to an organization if you thought the director was embezzling? I know you want the money back, but if we move too soon, we could end up with nothing, not a single one of the other thieves involved, no money, with a case not even worthy of prosecution.” She paused for emphasis. “If he gets wind we’re on to him, Milo Wachowski might run. We could lose him. Is that what you want?”

  “Run?”

  “Sure. If he gets scared, he’ll just scamper away like a rabbit.”

  He seemed to be mulling it over. “So where do we go from here?” He sagged back, his shoulders down, hands resting on the arms of his chair.

  “I, not we, talk to Milo Wachowski. Just talk. Nothing to spook him. If I’m good and careful, and I’m both, he’ll know we’re looking into it but not much else. My guess is he already knows that much. Maybe he’ll slip up or get scared and implicate others.”

  Nick turned his chair to the windows and the amazing view of Camelback Mountain.

  Finally Nick swiveled back toward her and said, “So, you think this Ray Tanner is one of Milo Wachowski’s accomplices?”

  “Could be, or maybe it’s the other way around. It’s too soon to take for granted that this Tanner guy’s even in on it. Wachowski could be using Lenncore to siphon money out of the foundation. The business account is still active at Saguaro National Bank. Although, I don’t know how much of the money’s there. I also don’t know if Lenncore is the only bogus vendor being used. That appears to be the case, at least so far.”

  “Wonderful.” Nick glanced at his watch and then turned it face out so she could see the time. “If you want to see Wachowski before he leaves for the day, you better get a move on. He stays late sometimes, but he may have left already.”

  She walked as fast as she could on the slick travertine, even stopping to slip off her shoes and scurry barefoot.

  When she was close enough to see the lights still on in Wachowski’s office, she stopped, put her shoes back on and got herself together before stopping in the open doorway.

  Just in time.

  He was rounding the desk, jacket slung over his shoulder.

  “Mr. Wachowski?” She tried very hard to sound casual, not like a person who’d just hustled all the way from the other side of the building.

  He glanced up, his moon face melting into a buttery frown. “Yes?”

  Jordan walked straight up to him, offering her hand and most charming smile. “Jordan Welsh. I’m a private investigator working for Mr. Brenner. I’m interviewing all the employees regarding a fiscal matter.”

  “Now’s not a good time.” He scowled.

  “I’ll make it quick.” She walked over and sat down in front of his desk. All prim and proper, she folded her hands and smiled.

  He gave it up, huffing and puffing as he turned back toward his desk, and plopped down in his chair. He was soft and bottom heavy but kind of cute, like the Pillsbury Doughboy with round-rimmed Harry Potter spectacles perched halfway down his nose. His crew cut, sandy-colored hair stood at alert, courtesy of some slick hair product.

  “I’m meeting my wife for dinner.”

  Oh, for crying out loud, is he sulking?

  “My wife doesn’t like to be kept waiting. She doesn’t like it at all.”

  Poor thing. Does she scold the baby? “Well then, Mr. Wachowski, we’d better get started. First of all, what does an integration and data management department head do?”

  He pushed his glasses farther up onto his nose and smirked. “Integrate and manage data.”

  “Computer data?”

  “You know any other kind?”

  “I see. How long have you been doing this integration of data?” she asked.

  “About five years.”

  “Do you like your job?”

  “It’s a paycheck.” He checked his watch. “Look. I gotta go.” He stood and moved halfway around his desk.

  “Tell me what you know about a company called Lenncore Systems.”

  That stopped him dead in his tracks. His face reddened and his glasses slid back down. “Who?”

  Jordan uncrossed her legs, re-crossed them and smoothed her skirt. “Lenncore Systems.” She didn’t look at him.

  His tone was even, although his pitch was a little high. “Never heard of them.”

  “Really?” She looked up from beneath her lashes. “That’s not likely.”

  Milo just stared at her.

  “They’re a vendor who rendered services to the foundation, specifically to this department,” she said.

  “Lenncore, you say? Hmm, let me think.”

  Right. You do that.

  He looked around the room, but she could have told him there was no place to hide.

  “Was it you or someone else who set up the vendor account for them?” she prodded.

  He looked at his watch yet again. “Oh. Lenncore. No. No. It wasn’t me who set it up. You should check with someone in purchasing, maybe Emmett Sullivan.” He twisted his wedding ring. “Is there anything else? My wife really doesn’t—”

  “I get it.” She stood, signaling an end to the interview. “I can’t say I blame her. I don’t particularly like to be kept waiting either. Thank you for your time.”

  From the look of utter dislike on his face, you’d have thought she was the grand inquisitor.

  She left his office, waited nearby in an empty cubicle and watched him scuttle to the elevator, cellphone to his ear, apologizing to someone named “But, honey.”

  It was pretty hard to think of Milo Wachowski as the ringleader in this caper. The poor wuss was way too whipped.

  CHAPTER 10

  It was already after five and the floor had emptied out, so when the elevator doors closed on Wachowski, Jordan headed back to his office for a little recreational breaking and entering.

  A twist of the knob confirmed the door was locked. No problemo, as Eddie Marino would say. She took a small case out of her purse and removed two thin steel picks. Eddie taught her how to jimmy locks, but Jordan didn’t get much practice. It took her a full minute and a half or two minutes to accomplish a task Eddie would have knocked out in a quarter of the time.

  When the lock popped, she slipped inside and went straight to Milo’s desk. Starting with the upper left hand drawer, she worked her way clockwise around it, one drawer at a time. There was nothing to help her unless you counted several Post-it notepads, three pens, a handful of paperclips, and a roll of dental floss.

  There seemed to be even less of interest in the credenza, but then she discovered a small fireproof safe inside one of the credenza cupboards. It practically sang out her name. She made a darned good effort at picking the lock but was soon forced to give up.

  She wouldn’t be mentioning this epic failure to Eddie. He would never let her live it down.

  By the time Jordan returned to his office, Nick was so anxious and hyped up he met her at the door. “What did you find out? You were gone a long time. Is he the one?”

  She paced in Nick’s office, talking it through, wearing a path in the exquisite Persian rug in front of his desk until she had told him everything. “I want to see what Milo has stashed in his safe.”

  Nick looked at her, one eyebrow arched in question.

  Jordan shrugged. “Based on my first impression, I don’t get the feeling Milo Wachowski is bright enough to mastermind this thing. I couldn’t get into the safe. There might be something inside to lead me to his partners. It’
s a key lock. I could pick it, eventually, probably, maybe, but I was really hoping there’s an extra set of keys around somewhere. Do you know if there is?”

  “Yes. There’s an extra set, and I know just where to find it.” Nick came around his desk. “Wait here a minute, please. I’ll get the keys then we’ll go do it.”

  He walked out, leaving her alone in his elegant office.

  While she waited, Jordan took a look around, crossing the room for a closer inspection of a dozen or so photos on the far wall. The subject of all the photos seemed to be the Brenners at various fundraising events. In some of the photos, they held oversized checks of impressively large amounts from various companies and organizations made out to The Moon & Stars Children’s Cancer Foundation. She smiled. It was a deserving cause, worthy of such generosity.

  “Ready?” Nick was back, standing in the doorway.

  She turned and joined him.

  “Okay, then,” he rattled the keys, “let’s go.”

  They crossed to the other side of the building and through the hallways.

  Everyone was gone, save the cleaning crew working off to one side; they seemed oblivious to everything except their cleaning cart and the hot salsa music pounding from their boom box.

  Nick unlocked the door, went straight to the credenza and used his key to get into the safe. “There you go.”

  Jordan swung open the small but heavy door, reached in and pulled out a notebook computer and a manila envelope.

  She set the laptop on the desk and turned away from it for the moment, concentrating on the contents of the unsealed envelope from which she removed several identical blank invoice forms. There was no customization on them. Any name and address could easily have been added. They were the same format as the invoices Karla had provided from Lenncore Systems. After showing the papers to Nick, who grew quite agitated, Jordan returned them to the envelope and put it back in the safe.

  Time for the computer. She turned it on and took several stabs at breaking the password but was blocked at every turn. “Is there any chance I can take this with me? I can’t get into it, but I know someone who can.”

  Nick didn’t answer right away. “Ah, what the hell. Take it. Technically it belongs to the foundation anyway. I’ll even give you his employee file if that will help.”

  “How can we keep Milo from missing it?”

  “Not a problem. Tomorrow’s Friday. I’ll keep Milo out of the office at a training seminar or some other thing.”

  “Perfect. I’ll get it back here before Monday morning. He’ll never know.”

  He walked with her to the elevator and pushed the button. “I’m impressed with what you’ve done in such a short period. For the first time, I’m beginning to think maybe we can set this straight after all.” He paused. “I’m glad we hired you.”

  “Why thank you, Nick. So am I.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Jordan walked into Eddie’s office carrying the laptop from Milo Wachowski’s safe.

  He was on the phone. “That’s right. Cloverton Insurance. You know I’ll appreciate any little old thing you can come up with, darlin’. Any little old thing at all.” His voice was silky as cream and sweet as honey.

  Something hot and bitter licked at Jordan’s insides. She turned away but stopped at his loud, “Psst.”

  He gestured at the chair in front of his desk. She took the hint and sat, surprised at how disturbed she was.

  He smiled and winked, and Jordan had to admit to herself, reluctantly, that she was jealous of the woman on the other end of the connection, the lucky recipient of his telephone seduction.

  What a magnificent specimen.

  Even magnificent didn’t do him justice. Thick, dark hair curled softly back off his handsome, tanned face. His dark eyes looked so deep into her soul that she could almost believe Kryptonians came to earth after all. Ah, Eddie.

  She hoped she didn’t have that goofy lovesick look on her face. She wasn’t ready for him to know exactly how crazy she was about him. Being crazy about a guy like Eddie might not be the smartest move.

  “Thanks, honey. Get back to me when you have it,” he practically cooed. “You’re the bomb.” He disconnected from honey the bomb and gave Jordan the shining benefit of his attention. “Just one of my sources. So, what’s up?”

  Trying to tamp down the pang of jealousy gnawing at her, she set Milo Wachowski’s laptop on the desk in front of him. Beside it she laid Wachowski’s human resources employee record, knowing personal info was always a good place to start if you wanted to hunt down a password. If he couldn’t get it from the information in the personnel folder, Eddie had a backup plan—to resort to his super-duper random search software.

  To cool her jets and keep him from seeing the burning spots on her cheeks, she wandered over to an abstract acrylic on his wall. “New painting?”

  “Mmm,” he mumbled. “You like it?”

  “Yes, I do.” She headed back to his desk. “Great splash of color. Intense. It figures.”

  He pulled the laptop around and flipped up the top. “It figures? How’s that? I assume you want me to burgle my way into this, as usual.”

  “If you please.” She answered his last question first. “Well, you like intense art because you’re an intense person.”

  He raised his eyes from the keyboard. “You think I’m intense?”

  She was compelled to look away from his laser-like stare. I rest my case.

  “Sometimes,” she lied.

  He went back to work on the laptop and chuckled under his breath. “Intense, huh? Nah. I’m such a softy, especially where you’re concerned, angel.”

  “You know my name’s not ‘Angel,’ Mr. Marino.”

  “And you know my name’s not Mr. Marino. We gonna get in trouble hacking this hardware?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Oh darn. That takes away all the fun.”

  “I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

  “You could never do that. Just hearing your voice perks me right up.”

  While Jordan watched him work, she imagined herself slinking over, grabbing him by the shirtfront and planting a kiss that would make his ears smoke.

  The computer beeped several times.

  “How’s it going?” Her voice sounded husky, even to her.

  “Slow.”

  She paced but stopped in her tracks when he exclaimed, “Bingo!”

  He spun the laptop back around. The desktop was open and active. “His middle name and birthday. Not very imaginative. It looks like there are a bunch of deleted files. You want them?”

  “Deleted? Can you get them?”

  “Forget who you’re talking to, darling? I’m the magic man. No problemo.” He pulled a small external hard drive from the bottom drawer of his desk and hooked it to the laptop. “Just give me a second.”

  Jordan watched, marveling at the speed and competence of his invasive attack.

  Eddie had worked as a Special Ops cryptologist in the military. He never talked about it. Every time she asked him about any of his cyber miracles, he said, “If I told you my secrets, gorgeous, I’d have to kill you. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

  Yes sir, cryptic. That was Eddie Marino all right, but his skills certainly came in handy. At times like this, for instance.

  “You’re a genius. Thanks! This could give us the break we need.”

  She leaned across the desk and gave him a peck on the cheek. The kiss was innocent enough, just a spontaneous display of thanks and affection.

  The response she got was totally unexpected.

  Eddie latched onto her arm and got to his feet so their faces were on the same level and thrillingly close. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  Jordan was surprised. “Dinner?”

  “Yes. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “Tonight?”

  He’d thrown her off balance.

  “Dinner?” she asked.

  “Sure. Why—”

  At that
very instant Eddie’s office door flew open and banged against the wall.

  Before she could draw a breath, Eddie yanked her to the floor, threw himself on top of her and pulled his gun.

  She twisted her head. The FedEx deliveryman quaked against the wall, three packages on the floor in front of him.

  She looked at Eddie. “Overreact much?”

  He relaxed, lowered his gun and grinned his crooked grin. He pushed up off her and pulled her up with him.

  “Dude, you can’t just come busting in. You could get shot.” Eddie helped FedEx gather the boxes from the floor.

  “Shot?” FedEx pressed two fingers to his neck and looked at his watch. “I almost had a heart attack!”

  “Sorry.” Jordan signed for the packages.

  After a lethal glare at Eddie, the deliveryman made a quick retreat.

  Jordan and Eddie managed somehow to hold it together until the door slammed. The minute he was gone, they burst into laughter.

  “Did you see his face? I thought I’d die.”

  “He thought he was gonna have a heart attack? When I saw I almost plugged the poor guy, my ticker skipped a few beats.” He took hold of her hand. “So, is it yes or no?”

  She looked at him.

  “Dinner. Yes or no?” He waited.

  “Sure. I’d like that. Something we need to discuss?” There had been other times Eddie wanted to talk about things to do with the agency away from the office.

  “Hmm-mm. I just want to have dinner with you.”

  “Oh.” She was pleased but a little puzzled. “Okay.”

  She picked up Wachowski’s laptop, careful not to shut it off.

  “Eddie, we need surveillance on this man—Milo Wachowski—a twenty-four hour watch if we have the manpower.”

  “You betcha, cupcake. I’ll get a tail on the guy faster than you can say, Pick you up at eight. Don’t be late.” He looked very pleased with himself.

  Back at her desk, she used the backup Eddie created on the auxiliary hard drive so she wouldn’t disturb anything in Milo’s computer that might let him know someone hacked it. From his cache history, it seemed Milo spent a lot of his time at the office surfing the Internet—personal stuff, travel-related pages of high-end resorts and exotic destinations, also various online gambling websites.